“The trees are bare”, you said.
The sun shone
And our 2 dogs ran on
Unaware their autumn
Must come. And a gentle breeze
Blew through grasses.
When young lovers kiss amidst spring flowers
In their urgent need
They fail to heed
How our hours are fragile as glass.
Spring and summer pass.
We come to autumn
And the bare tree speaks of mortality.
The cold bites hard
In the churchyard.
The temperature is zero.
I know
These fallen leaves
Do not deceive.
My autumn has come.
And alone
I go home
Heading for the churchyard
Crows core on a cold day.
My hair is long since grey.
These autumn leaves
Will not stay.
The dark comes quickly on.
Leaves fall in the park.
And I remember that early September
Has come, bringing Autumn.
And summer has gone.
But I can not repent
Of autumn’s sweet scent
Or grieve over fallen leaves
For she is beauty.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-2AWegHHqc
It being the first of November, I thought that I would post one of my favourite poems, my November Guest by Robert Frost.
Frost was a New England poet. However, given that he spent some time in England and was friends with the English poet Edward Thomas, I think we English can also lay claim to Frost’s wonderful poetry. No brickbats from my American readers for laying claim to Robert Frost please!
You can find My November Guest in Frost’s A Boy’s Will.
I do not fear
Another dying year
But simply pass
Along the churchyard path
Observing these fallen leaves.
Autumn does not deceive.
But lust
Does, I find
Distract the mind
From dust,
While autumn time reminds
Us that we all
As autumn leaves
Must fall.
Sometimes my belief
Is that grief
Conquers all.
Then I recall
The air
In late August
Carrying hay
And coming Autumn.
Such sweet air
Carries no despair.
Damp leaves in cold park.
Autumn days are growing dark.
The wind whistled
In the churchyard.
Then the rain came again.
In the early morning
Few birds I heard.
In the distance
Vehicles passed by.
On such autumn mornings
I have no resistance
To thoughts of mortality.
But half dark
Turns to light
And I must
Shake off dust.
But autumn
Must come
And leaves fall.
On my walks
I often find
That inner talk
Distracts my mind.
Then, the breeze
Rustles Autumn leaves
Reminding me
Of eternity.
K Morris - Poet 